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by SophieHatter



Series: Sophie’s Shorts [3]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Challenge Response, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Battle, Post Abyss, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 18:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16046507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieHatter/pseuds/SophieHatter
Summary: It was the third time this week she’d heard him in the middle of the night. Off-world they usually shared a tent and she had grown to know the signs of his nighttime demons stalking.





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**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [PepperF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF) in the [FandomRevival](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FandomRevival) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> We’re just friends but I heard you having a bad nightmare so I came into your room in the middle of the night to help.

**Home**

It was the third time this week she’d heard him in the middle of the night. Off-world they usually shared a tent and she had grown to know the signs of his nighttime demons stalking. So sensitised had she become that she woke from dead sleep to soothe him. Most times, she would kick him awake from his feet. It meant less chance that he would hurt her before he realised that he was safe and, if he did react poorly, she could get out of his reach.

She was regretting the generosity of the Adhans in giving them each seperate rooms to stay in. If they’d been sharing this past week she would have been able to help the Colonel before the nightmare got really settled in. Pulling on her BDU pants, Sam opened the door to her room and made her way down the hallway to the next door.

Listening against the wood, she heard him groan and then there was a loud thump, like a body hitting the floor. Without waiting, she swung the door open to see the Colonel sprawled on the floor, groggy. The hall lights helped her make out his upper half, his legs were in darkness.

“Sir, it’s Carter,” she said firmly, not moving any closer. She wanted him to acknowledge her before coming any further into his room.

“Carter?” The Colonel’s voice shook, which obviously disturbed him as much as it did her because he made a mad scrabble to get off the floor. Something prevented him and he fell back down.

“Oh for crying out loud,” He muttered quietly. “Got a light, Major?”

Some would say he was a creature of habit, Sam knew he was a creature of Black Ops. He always stowed his gear in the same order and, if at all possible, in the same places. Pack against the end of the bed, clothes folded beside it. Flashlight front left side pocket.

“Got it, Sir,” she told him, navigating the room in the partial light, following her mental map of his habits and gear. Sam flicked on the light and they could both see the problem, when he’d tumbled out of bed, the bedclothes had wrapped around him from thighs to ankles.

With the light, Colonel O’Neill was able to unwind and extricate himself. Sam saw that he was dressed in his usual sleep attire, black tee and boxers. Once he was sitting on the edge of the bed, she moved back to his pack and grabbed his canteen, passing it off before sitting down beside him.

“Thanks, Carter,” he said when he’d finished swallowing. It had helped to clear the grogginess and his voice was now level. “Sorry for waking you.”

“No need to apologise, Sir,” and there wasn’t, really. They all had nightmares from time to time and they all performed this service for each other. Wake, talk, comfort, sleep. After six years they had enough bad memories and experiences to dream a different nightmare each night for a month, probably two. And the Colonel had three times the length of service that she had. “I could bunk in here, lay out my roll on the floor,” she suggested.

The Colonel’s back straightened, although he didn’t turn to look at her. “Why would you do that, Carter? It might offend our hosts.” It might also be a problem if it got into a report.

“It might offend them if you wake the whole house, too.” She tried to make light of it the best she could. More gently, she told her CO, “I usually wake up before they get you too hard, Sir. I could wake you.”

Pushing his long fingers through his hair, Colonel O’Neill gave an exasperated sigh. “Now why would you think I’d need to be woken again, Major?”

“Three times, Sir. Three nights you’ve had nightmares since we got here.”

So, no, he wasn’t fooling her, probably not anyone else on the team, either. “It’s the bread,” he said quietly.

“The bread?” Sam was so surprised that she dropped the reflexive ‘Sir’. The bread favoured by the inhabitants of this town was a type of flatbread, leavened with some sort of soda, rather than yeast. It was served with every meal as a side dish, a wrapper or an easily portable snack. It was tasty and Sam liked it when it was served fresh and still warm from the large, flat griddles used to cook it. Although she would admit that it was getting a bit repetitive having eaten it at every meal for the past five days.

O’Neill had turned off the flashlight but still had it in his hands. He turned it over end to end and Sam wondered if she would get an answer, he had been silent so long. “Something about it, reminds me of Ba’al’s fortress. It has a spice or something, lingers in the back of your throat.”

“Got it,” she acknowledged. And she did. Traumatic memories had a way of sneaking up on you when you thought them long gone. Sometimes it was a sound or a visual patterns, sometimes a smell or a flavour, but it was usually unexpected and not until it happened could you identify what caused it.

Here they were, off-world, on a seven day trade negotiation and the Colonel had come across something that reminded him of his time trapped, tortured and continuously revived in Ba’al’s fortress. O’Neill rarely spoke about it, but the report of his time there and the small flashes he had let his team know about told Sam that his nightmares were probably a torture in themselves.

“Let me stay,” Sam said, reaching to hold his wrist, sliding her fingers into his palm.

His response was completely unexpected. O’Neill lent forward and pressed his forehead against her hand, letting out a low whimper. Sam’s pulse shot up and she turned towards him, resting her other hand on the back of his head. It was simple to detect the tension in him. Sam had never known him to let this much emotion show.

“Jack,” she loosed his name quietly into the dark, stroking her fingers through his hair. “I’m here. You’re safe.” With her words, she let her fingers in his hair dig deeper, finding tension in his neck, at the base of his skull, and kneading it away the best she could. “Safe, with me,” she told him, over and over.

Finally, her back began to ache from the position and she thought that it couldn’t be doing Jack’s body any better, so she encouraged him to stretch out and lie down. She took a moment to unbutton her BDUs and let them fall to the floor and then she slid into bed behind her CO and pulled the blankets up and over them both. They’d done this a few times before, when the demons dug their claws in too deep and the only thing to banish them was the solid presence of another living being, something more real and more whole than the terrors that came with sleep.

Sure, it got left out of their reports, but none of them felt it breached the frat regs. There was nothing sexual in comforting a team mate in pain, even if it was emotional pain. In the morning they would rise, dress and say nothing of it. Sam had held both Jack and Daniel before. Not for Jonas, but he hadn’t scarred as deep or as long as the others, yet. Nor for Teal’c, kel’no’reem not tending towards nightmares, but he had been the giver of comfort, too.

Sam slotted her body behind the Colonel’s, curling around him, hand over his side and resting in the centre of his chest. “I’m here, you’re safe,” she repeated again and they both tried to relax into sleep.

Sleep must have come for them both, because she was woken by Jack again. His murmurs and imperceptible twitches had woken her sooner than they usually did, simply because she was touching his body. She didn’t change her position, instead used the contact she already had and pressed her palm firmly against his his chest, pulling herself in tight against his back.

“Jack, it’s Sam. I’m here. I’ve got you. Wake up, you’re safe.” She hardly ever used his name, or hers, between them. She hoped that she could slip in under the military memories and call on the things that they hardly ever spoke of, but were always there, just beneath the surface. Love, loyalty, devotion, refuge.

“Sam.”

It was barely there. If she’d been any further away, she would have missed it.

“I’m here, Jack. You’re safe.” She reached for his hand and slid her fingers through his, pulling both hands to the centre of his chest. “I’m here, sleep.”

“Love you.”

The whisper made her freeze and then she reminded herself to relax and breathe out or he’d wake up further and perhaps remember what he’d said.

“I know,” she whispered to the darkness, pressing her forehead against the back of his shoulder.

She thought that he’d gone back to sleep and was letting herself relax back into oblivion, too, when his thumb stroked hers. That was all, and it could have been a reflex, or a dream action, except that soft words followed it, his voice lucid, not dreamlike at all.

“Thank you.”

Sam nodded, knowing he would feel her acknowledgement, her forehead still pressed against him.

“You make me feel ... safe. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too,” she answered, out loud, this time.

He brought his hand to his mouth, bringing hers along with, and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

“Jack,” she said, warning.

“I know,” he replied and tucked their hands against the hollow of his throat. They both let the silence press back in.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, not sure that she was really awake and saying the words. It felt like a dream to say them out loud at all.

“Sam, I ...” He rolled on to his back, she remained on her side, their hands still entwined, resting in the centre of his chest. “I can’t go back to sleep.”

“Ok,” Sam said. She wondered if he wanted her to leave, if she should leave, seeing as her staying was supposed to be about sleeping.

“We never talk about the ...” Jack trailed off. Sam felt him swallow and then a soft swish as he licked his lips. “When Ba’al had me, Daniel wanted me to ascend, to escape.”

She’d heard this, before. “Jack, I’m sor-.” Sam stopped as he squeezed her hand.

“Don’t,” he told her. Realising it sounded like a command, he softened, “I’ve accepted what happened, why you suggested it, why I said yes. This isn’t about that.” Jack slid his fingers out from under hers and rolled towards her, so that they were face to face. “I said yes to you, and no to Daniel, because I wanted to survive. I wanted to come home.” Jack reached for Sam, fingertips brushing the side of her face. “Home to you.”

It was hard to see in the almost darkness, but Jack felt her features crease and his fingers moved to soothe the tight lines that formed beside her eyes.

“Jack.” Her voice quavered. “Why didn’t you just go with Daniel?”

“I couldn’t,” he swallowed. “I had to make it back.”

Sam was crying, the tears rolling down her skin, her throat tight. Why, why had she tried to save him, let Kanaan take his body to Ba’al? And then he had refused release because of her? How could he even bear to have her by his side, day after day?

“No, no,” Jack was cupping her face, kissing her tears away. “Don’t, Sam. Don’t. I chose this. I chose you. I just, hadn’t yet figured out how to tell you.”

Her hand mirrored his, fingers resting against his temple, his stubble rough against her palm.

“I chose you,” Jack repeated. “Life without being able to be with you was no choice at all.”

Sam moved closer, let her forehead press against Jack’s. “What are we waiting for?” She asked, “Because I can’t lose you again and not ... it’s not fair.”

Her lips were already so close to his that it was no effort at all to push his chin towards her and let them touch. Featherlight, he brushed skin to warm skin. A stray tear was caught between them, the moisture surprising. He felt Sam’s lips part, the warm rush of her breath on his skin and all he had to do was push forward ...

Except that she beat him to it, pressing her lips firmly to his, along with the rest of her body, her ankle hooking over his calf. Sam slid her hand to cup the back of his neck and they were kissing, honest to god, kissing and he was stunned into stillness.

Sam took the measure of his response and began to pull back, worried that she had taken things too far. Then Jack’s hand tightened against her face and he was reciprocating. His lips parted, asking and she had her answer ready, sliding her lips over his, playing and teasing at his until she had to have more. Tilting, raising up over him without losing contact, Sam opened to him, her tongue searching.

Her confidence, the lead she was taking, banished any last remnants of uncertainty that Jack had and his hand found her waist, then the back of her hip, pulling her tight against him. The blood had been gathering in his groin for a while now, since he had woken again, assuming that that particular body part might be needed in the near future. Jack had studiously ignored it, but now it was giving him a very firm, very hard, _I told you so_.

Sam moaned into his mouth as she felt his erection, hooking her leg up further, her thigh nearly to his hip, her warm centre rubbing against him. With just the thin fabric of their underwear between them, it didn’t take much to find the right angle to stimulate her clit against him.

It was at this point that Jack realised Sam was only in her underwear. He’d been sure she had been wearing BDUs when she came into his room, but he couldn’t recall when she had taken them off. In his momentary confusion, he lost the rhythm of their hips rocking together and she nipped at his lip.

“You ok?” Sam asked, drawing back, trying to see his face in almost dark.

Jack ran his fingers over the elastic at the leg of her panties. “Absolutely” he responded, holding her firmly, rolling her on top of him, then sliding both his hands under the fabric of her underwear. Stroking the silky soft skin, he briefly noted the nub of a scar, and then dug his fingers in to her behind, pushing up into her with his hips. “Are you ok?” He asked, cheekily.

Sam’s laugh was soft, coming from her chest and she pushed herself upright, straddling him, finding the edge of her shirt and pulling it off in one swift movement. Fingers feeling for them hem of his, she pushed it up, exploring until she exposed his chest and could bring her mouth to one of his nipples. She sucked and bit and roughed him with her tongue until he grunted. Then she moved to its partner.

There was a moment, when her body lifted, that Jack could slide a hand between them, along the skin of her belly and down into her underwear. It was no trouble at all to find the opening to her lips, lubricated as they already were. It was cramped, but he explored and she shifted until he was where she needed him. Curling his fingers, one either side of her clit, he slowly stroked her while she licked and nosed her way to his mouth.

There was another kiss, passionate, and Sam had clearly been putting together a thorough list of the ways to tease with tongue and lips. She continued rocking against his stroking fingers until her hips twitched involuntarily and he stilled.

“More,” she told him and began sliding off him sideways, reaching for her underwear. She shimmied out of them and then reached for his, tugging at the waistband.

“Sam,” he asked, holding himself out of the way until the elastic passed his penis and then joining with her to remove them completely. “Are you sure? If we do this, we’re going to know. And we’re going to want-.”

Sam interrupted, “I already know and I already want. Jack, I choose you, too.” Finding his erection with her hand, she stroked his length. “I. Want. You. Now.” Her hand stroked him again. “Tomorrow,” again, “Forever,” her fingers wrapped around him and pulled slowly over his head, making him moan. Leaning so that her lips brushed his ear, she spoke, words low and throaty. “Fuck me, Jack.”

His dick decided it was time to take charge, especially with an invitation like that. Rolling her over, he pushed her legs apart with his knees, his fingers divining her wet heat and heading straight to centre. Two fingers, then three, as he found her ready and very wet. His fingers delved and stroked, twisting, feeling, mapping the first of her pleasure spots and noting how long, how hard until she was writing and begging for release.

“So long,” he said, sliding his fingers out and taking himself in hand, pressing into her wet folds. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. I know you’ve been waiting.”

The Colonel was normally sparse with words, but Jack, Jack was overflowing with them, talking, telling, releasing all the thoughts that he normally kept locked down. Sam found it both amusing and erotic and as he pressed into her, she cupped his face again. “Tell me, Jack. Tell me how it feels for you.”

There was a moment when he held himself above her, not moving, not speaking, the faintest rock of his hips as he was half way inside her. “Tell me,” Sam urged him again.

“Couldn’t have imagined ... so good, Sam. So hot and ... ngh,” she squeezed him as he pushed fully inside her, “ ... it’s you. Finally you.” There was a break in the commentary as Jack leaned down to kiss her and decided to hang around for the comfortable real estate, putting his weight on his elbows and kissing downwards until he could take a nipple between his lips.

“That’s it, Jack, just like that. Suck me, fuck me ...” she filled in the dead air while he rocked against her, mouth occupied. Her fingers twisted and pulled at her other nipple and he moved suddenly, capturing both her fingers and her nipple in his mouth, sucking, nipping, tonguing her fingers and her nub. “God damn,” she cursed. “When are you going to fuck me?”

Jack bit down on her, teeth marking, but only temporarily. He thrust his hips into her and held her there, leaning into her with his weight, pulling his head up so that his dogs tags dangled, brushing between her breasts. “When?” He asked, rocking back and then pressing into her, hard and deep, pinning her to the mattress. “When I’m ready, Major.”

The use of her rank sent a shiver along her spine that ended up between her legs, hot and tight, contracting around him.

Jack pulled back, carefully, slowly and then rocked forward sharply, pushing her hips into the bed again. “And then you’ll know it. You’ll know I’ve fucked you,” he drew out slowly and then drove home, hard and deep. “And tomorrow, you’ll know I’ve fucked you,” and again. “You’ll ache from my fucking,” Thrust, “Cock,” Harder. “And when you call me Sir,” he picked up speed, taking her firm and hard as he spoke. “You’ll call me Sir and remember what it feels like to be fucked by me.”

“Sir,” Sam whispered in response, her back beginning to arch, lifting her hips into him, subtly changing the angle and making everything feel more. “Sir. I’m going to ..”

“Come,” his voice was heavy, richer than it normally was, there was more in it than just his years of command. Curling his body over hers, bringing his face down to find her ear, “Come Samantha. Come for me. I came back for this ...”

Her orgasm came upon her with a strangled cry and the force of it lifted her hips off the bed and made her body writhe. Jack was there, right by her ear. “Beautiful, so beautiful. I’ve been wanting you for so long. I love you.”

When her hips had settled again, Jack tested her with a single thrust. She groaned and he began to set up a rhythm again.

“Come, Sir,” she whispered. If he hadn’t been bending over he he might have missed it. “I want you to come, so bad. Sir, come ...” she begged and Jack felt it build at her request. With her last urging of come, he was falling into her, surging over and over until he was spent and, with the last of his control, lowered himself on to her chest.

Sam’s hand found his shoulder and she scraped her nails over his skin as he slowly returned to her. When he could, he kissed the curve of her shoulder and lifted his body, falling down beside her. Sam’s arm passed under his head and she teased his hair, rolling it between her fingers.

“I really am going to remember this tomorrow,” Sam told him.

“Five mile PT in the morning?” Jack teased.

“Another day of sitting, trying to keep my mind on facts and figures and not your fucks and kisses?” She chuckled.

“We go home, day after tomorrow,” Jack noted.

“Not sure I’m going to be able to walk to the gate. The guys might notice.”

“We’ll wait until we’re home, then,” Jack suggested, curling his body into hers. “And we have three days leave. I wonder how we’ll you’ll be walking after that, Major.”

“Ha, old man,” she retorted. “You’ll have to keep up with me, first.”

“Challenge accepted,” Jack told her, nipping at her shoulder.

Sam gave a contented sigh and leaned her face toward his. “Jack?”

“Yeah?” He asked, already sliding into sleep.

“I’m glad you chose to come home.”

“Was the only choice I was gonna make.” His fingers caressed her side, “I’ll always come home to you.”


End file.
